A/N Usual warnings apply, except to a higher level. In other words, this is YAOI, this is SASUNARUSASU, this is BOYXBOY and this is SMUT and SEX. This is like, the longest fanfiction chapter I've written…and it is GRAPHIC. Please, please, please do not read this if those words don't appeal to you. Oh, and beware some side-couple smut too. Someone recommended some side-couple yaoi, and I thought it was a great idea! Thank you!
Also beware – the personalities of the characters in this fic might be considered way OOC. See, to me, it's just the way they'd react if they were put in this AU, so that's how I'm writing it. Sorry if it doesn't work for you.
I know "babe" doesn't really exist in Japanese – or if it does, I don't know the translation. I apologize if that doesn't really make sense!
Still don't own anything except maybe a leotard-clad Sasuke performing Shakespeare in ballet.
Thank you so much for the reviews and faves! I'm so damned glad people enjoy this!
It's just about thirty minutes to eight o'clock, and I don't know where the day's gone. We've rehearsed so much I can't feel my muscles anymore, but I know they know what to do. Every time my eyes close in a blink, I can see the steps, one, two, three, grand jete, grand plie, et arête! Et repete. Et repete. Le position quatre, une autre plie, et – pirouette!
"Sasuke?" Neji's voice jolts me out of the mental reverie. I'm sitting on the bench Naruto left me at after he took me to a quick dinner after rehearsal, with my head in my hands, watching my limbs perform the steps through my eyelids. Neji has come out of nowhere, but I look up at him, and I know what he's going to say before he says it. "Gaara's not here yet."
I don't know what to do. I've never seen him this distraught before. His pale eyes, despite the talent of the make-up artists, are almost listless and invisible in his despair.
"I know it's stupid," he continues quietly. "I know there will be other performances, and I know this isn't his fault. But it's just that it's been so long since I last saw him, I guess I feel like I've been waiting for this night. I guess I figured waiting would be worth it if he could make it tonight. I know that doesn't make much sense, I just – "
His voice breaks off, and I understand, though I realize with a bit of a jerk that before Naruto, I probably wouldn't have. I don't touch him, or take his hand, because those gestures just don't seem to fit. At the same time, I don't know what to say. I sit on the bench, and he stands, and he's not crying – God, Neji will never let people see him cry – but in his eyes was emotion much deeper than the dramatics of tears. There are times when crying can be the most powerful act; this wasn't one of them, and so the tears didn't come to him.
"Sasuke?" This time the voice is one that makes my heart skip. Sure enough, when I look over Neji's shoulder, Naruto is standing there. But I feel a wide, relieved smile spreading across my face, because my hunk of sexy isn't alone. "Sorry to come backstage so close to curtain, but this guy said he was looking for Hyuuga Neji, and he seemed really intense about it, and I figured Neji'd be with you."
Thank you, Naruto.
Gaara clearly hadn't had time to clean up or anything, in fact, he's still carrying his luggage, a large, gourd-shaped sack he carried on his back. But his dark-rimmed eyes are fierce and clear, and they're aimed at Neji's loose ponytail. Neji still hasn't turned around, I guess because he doesn't want to see if it's true yet.
"Neji." Gaara's voice is as electric as the fire of his hair, and even though he's so fascinating, I can't help but love how soft Naruto looks next to him. Soft. What a funny word for that boy. I don't think I've mentioned his favorite color – it's loud, it's obnoxious, it clashes horribly with his hair and eyes – it's orange, and his t-shirt is glaringly tangerine tonight. Yet it's quirky, and it's interesting, and it's nothing I'd ever go for usually – so I like it.
At Gaara's voice, Neji turns around. He only takes one moment to stare at his lover before closing the distance between the two of them in three steps, enveloping the smaller boy in a rough kiss.
Naruto turns an embarrassed shade of pink as they start to moan, whispering in each other's ears. One of Gaara's knees slides between Neji's legs, and at that, Naruto steps over to me and we quietly walk through the adjoining room.
"Neji's going to smear his make-up," I say, shaking my head. "Kakashi-sensei's not going to be pleased." Naruto laughs, leaning on my shoulder, and I smile at him. "Really, though, thanks for bringing Gaara over. I'm glad he could make it."
"No problem," Naruto replies, laying a kiss on my shoulder blade. "Besides, it gave me an excuse to see you again before the show." At the mention of the show, the customary butterflies began in my stomach. "And don't be nervous," he continues, reading my mind. "You're going to be amazing; you always are."
"Thank you," I say, honestly less nervous at his words. It's very hard to not believe him.
"They're a sweet couple," Naruto says ponderingly, as we continue to wander around the emptied backrooms of backstage. "They're so in – "
He cut himself off. Half of it was because I knew what he was going to say. He was going to use the "L" word, and we haven't used that word yet. But he also cut himself off because we had just passed an old storage room in which two men are having sex.
Okay, they aren't quite having sex – yet. But it's clear that's the ultimate goal. Naruto's eyes meet mine, and, eyebrows raised, we both peer through the small window in the door to the room.
"Holy shit!" I say under my breath.
"Isn't – um – isn't that your instructor guy?" Naruto whispers tentatively in my ear.
"Yes!" I hiss. "And the costume designer!"
I don't really know why we didn't just leave Kakashi and Kiba to it, but we stand there transfixed for a few minutes.
We can't hear them through the door, but I can sense Kakashi's moans from the way his mouth lies open, clearly panting, as his leggings are pulled off his ankles and Kiba bites at the paleness of his ass.
There's something…not…human about that Kiba. He's so carnal, in the way he licks the cleft of my dance instructor, between the unsurprisngly firm cheeks. I can almost hear him growling, and Kakashi thrusts back against him, and oh God I can see a part of my teacher I never needed to see –
My goodness, he is fucking well-endowed.
But now, uncontrollably, I'm starting to get a bit too excited by this display. I shift uncomfortably – it's not good to get turned on before performing – and Naruto gets the hint. Blushing madly as Kiba starts to push inside, we clasp each other's hands and walk very quickly towards the busier parts of backstage. God, sex is just everywhere.
"Well." Naruto says as we reach the same bench (Neji and Gaara have exited the area, perhaps to find a more private place). "I – that was – well." I give a weak little smile.
"Eh," I say, trying to distract myself from how badly I want to jump his bones, "it makes sense. Kakashi needed to get some, and jeez, that Kiba's pretty much an ass pirate."
The silence following that is vaguely awkward, but not necessarily uncomfortable. I suppose it's more the tension that makes our air so thick. It's the odd air of being virgins together, but at the same time, not.
I'm almost grateful when the stage bell clanged, signaling audience members like Naruto to take their seats.
"Good luck, babe," he says, pecking me a kiss on the corner of his mouth. "I'll meet you at the dressing room entrance after the show."
"Don't call me babe," I reply, but I don't mean it, and he knows, and he squeezes my hand, and before I know it I'm in the wings again. Kakashi-sensei appears behind us, rubbing his head and his, well, hindquarters. He seems rather worn out, but he gives us a smile and a few words of encouragements.
"This is it, guys! I know you can do it, you've done it before." He grins. Hmm, I rather like this post-sex teacher. "Now – just do it better!"
Neji's next to me, his make-up hurriedly re-applied, a bit out of breath, but with a very satisfied expression on his face. I smile at him and he beams back, and I think to myself, now I know exactly how he feels.
It's a cheering thought, and it carries my limbs forward a split second before my cue comes, and for a moment I panic, but then the music guides me like the long bristles of a paintbrush guide the strokes of an artist, and I glide through my steps with energy coursing through me.
One, two, three, grand jete, grand plie, et arête! Et repete. Et repete. Le position quatre, une autre plie, et – pirouette! I stick the landing and the audience's applause carries us into the next scene. Poor, doomed Romeo.
But as intermission rolls around, and I reach for bottled water and stretch my enlivened ligaments, I realize the ending of their story – Romeo and Juliet's – isn't quite as tragic as I'd always seen it. I point my toes, and wow – I'd always figured Shakespeare was right in classifying this particular play as a tragedy because the new lovers died. I tug on my elbows, and hey, I always thought the story touched me because the emotion of the characters was cut off.
The next scene starts, and then the next, and the next, and Juliet plans her faked death, and Romeo's heart is consumed by her. Soon, Juliet wakes to find her lover lifeless in her arms, and as she picks up her poison, I realize the ending of the story isn't really that sad at all.
Curtain call makes Neji grab my sweaty hand and bow, and bow again, because this is the end of this run of the show, and Romeo and Juliet have died once again, but even as the white lights blind us and the applause is nothing but a roar in my ears, the peak of my epiphany reaches me.
Romeo and Juliet. Their story is not a tragedy because their love did not end. I can't believe I didn't see it before! All this time I'd been inwardly mourning for their lost love, but they died together, and so they were at peace. Their story didn't end because their love didn't end – it's eternal, and I can't think of anything less tragic than that.
"Sasuke! Sasuke!" I didn't even register the fact that I was in the dressing room, clutching a bouquet the conductor must have handed all of us, but I did recognize that voice, and I realized I was freakin' ecstatic.
"Naruto!" And he flings himself around me, even though I know I'm perspiring to the point of utter repulsiveness, and out of the corner of my eye, I can see Gaara attacking Neji in a similar fashion.
"You were fantastic," he rasps, pressing his mouth harshly against the sides of my face, "fucking fantastic."
I don't want to talk. I close all the distance between us, between every inch of our bodies, and kiss him so damned hard. After a few minutes of this, he pulls away with lust in his eyes.
"Please tell me the cast party is tomorrow night and we can go home now?"
"Yes, it is," I say, eternally grateful that it was true, "and yes, we can."
His face lights up and his hands travel up my shirt. The adrenalin is pumping through me so hard, I almost can't take it. I grab him and the walk home (well, we practically jogged) would have been absolutely unbearable if it wasn't for the promise of privacy waiting for us.
By the time we reach my door, we're panting. I unlock it and he fists my shirt and pushes me inside, and our mouths meet furiously, sloppily. He wraps his arms around me and lays me onto my bed, pulling up my t-shirt and kissing at my chest.
"You did so well tonight, Sasuke-sama," he breathes. "Let me reward you."
I know what's going to happen, but now, it doesn't seem like enough.
"Wait," I say, before he lowers himself for me again. "Wait. I – I want to talk first." He looks up at me, skeptical for a moment. I guess he thinks I'm teasing, but I'm not. I want some damned answers. He raises an eyebrow. I know he can feel how aroused I am, but I can feel how aroused he is, and I can feel his hardness and his wetness above me, and I don't want it to go neglected for yet another night.
"Oh," he says, rather deflated. He sits himself next to me on the bed. "Sure. Let's talk."
I take a deep breath. Damn, I have no idea what I'm doing. But fuck it, I'm an Uchiha, and if an Uchiha wants answers, he sure as hell gets them!
…also, if an Uchiha wants tail, he sure as hell gets it, my brother's near-harem of sex kittens should prove that.
"Naruto, why won't you let me touch you?" I say in one breath. His face pales.
"I don't know what you mean," he says too quickly. I roll my eyes.
"Of course you do, idiot!" He cringes, and for once, I regret the insult. I sigh and stroke his cheek with the back of my hand. It's sticky with sweat and scars, but it's so warm, and I like the feel of it. "Sorry. But you do know what I mean. Every time we're" – I cleared my throat – "together, you're always the one who" – oh God, why does he make me so fucking self-conscious. I'm never self-conscious! At least, I didn't used to be. "— I mean, you're always the one doing stuff for me. And I was just wondering why you don't want to – um – go farther."
He looks straight at me, and I can't read him.
"Why does it matter to you, if you're the one who's getting it? Why do you need to go all the way? Aren't I good enough for you, the way I am?"
I pull away my hand; I'm so taken aback. I can see his eyes are large with the beginnings of tears, and I don't understand.
"Of course you are! I – I – God, I'm sorry!" I rarely apologize. "God, I'm so sorry, I didn't know it was such a big deal! I don't want to pressure you into anything, of course I don't!" The words are true, but they sound lame. My voice is gruff with the new emotions, and it comes out wrong.
"Then why did you bring it up?" he says, tears trickling freely now.
"Because I just wanted to know the reason you won't let me touch you!" Now my voice was growing louder, more out of confusion than anger, but I don't think he saw it that way.
"Is sex all you care about?" he says, through small sobs.
"Of course not!" I'm still relatively a virgin, damn it, and not for lack of opportunity!
"Then why does it matter if I let you touch me or not?"
"Because I want to make you feel the way you make me feel!" I exclaim, in almost an outrage. "You have no idea how incredible it is, especially when I open my eyes and see your face smiling at me when the sensation is rocking through me, and I want to make you love me like I love you!"
He stops crying.
I stop breathing.
I hadn't planned to say it.
I hadn't even really realized it was true, not on a conscious level at least.
But it was.
And I'd said it, and I can't take it back.
"I love you," I say again, calmer this time, but vibrating with emotion. "I love you, and I don't care if we never have sex, I just wanted to show you what you do to me when we're together, but if you don't want it, I don't care about it. I just wanted to know why, but if you don't want to tell me, it doesn't matter, and I'll never bring it up again." I know I'm blushing. I lower my head so my bangs cover it, even though it barely matters, and I know I sound like a damned fag, but well, who cares.
"Sasuke," he says, and he's so sexy, "Sasuke, I love you too." He swallows hard, and I can't tell if I'm numb inside, or if my nerves are screaming with how much I care about him. "I love you too, and that's why I don't want to tell you why I don't want you to take off my clothes."
"I don't get it!" I say, racking my electrified brains, trying to put together the pieces. He takes a shuddering breath, then takes one of my hands. He holds it to his lips and studies my fingers, my palm, my nails, my knuckles. He kisses it, so gently.
"Of course you don't," he says, quietly. "You're so perfect. How could you?" He pauses, and I'm still confused. I mean, I suppose in some respects he's right – I mean, come on – but I don't see how that really matters. "Okay, I'll tell you the reason."
"You don't have to," I say immediately. "Never mind what I said before. Only tell me if you want to tell me."
"I want to tell you," he says. We cross our legs and face each other. "But please don't laugh, okay? And please, please don't be mad at me." He rubs the back of his blond head. "It's a stupid reason."
"I won't laugh," I promise, and I know I can keep that promise, Uchihas are adept at controlling sentiment – well, usually. "And I can't be mad at you." Which is weird, because I can get mad at everyone else.
He takes a shuddering breath, and I try to encourage him by rubbing away leftover tears. He tilts his head into my hand and smiles a little, and I smile back.
"Look," he begins. "You're a virgin, right?"
"Depends on what your definition is," I say, thinking back to what he's done to me.
"I mean, with people besides me," he interjects, his smile widening a bit.
"Then yes," I assure him.
"Right. Well. Then the only male bodies you've really seen are the guys at the dance studio, right? And the ones from other ballets?"
"Yes," I say slowly, not getting where he's going with this.
"Well, Sasuke, I'm not like them. And I'm not like you."
"You're better," I say automatically. He shakes his head.
"I know this is going to sound stupid, but please don't laugh, because it's a really big deal to me, okay?" I nod, so eager to find out what's going on. He sighs again. "Sasuke, I'm an artist. You spend your days dancing, and working out, and dancing, and toning your body, and being surrounded by guys with bodies just like yours. I spend my days playing video games and eating junk food, or painting and drawing and eating junk food. Indoors. Barely moving." He's toying with my sheets now. "I don't – I don't have the body you're used to seeing. I don't have the body all the magazines and T.V. shows tell me to have, and it never really bothered me until I had someone to compare myself too, and believe me, between us, there's no comparison. I don't have your flat stomach, or your abs – I love ice cream and Hostess cupcakes way too much for that. I don't have your biceps, I don't have your pecs, I don't have your thighs." He is fire-red now, which clashes horridly with his hair and his shirt, and makes his eyes look extra bright. "I don't have smooth skin, and I don't have a tight little ass, and I'm sunburned and I'm chubby, and I'm nothing compared to you, and it's not that I think you're superficial or anything, it's just that I really, really don't think I'm good enough for you, and I definitely don't think I'm hot enough for you, and I know you deserve better, and I'm just a selfish bastard who just wants to touch you and taste you, and I don't want you to stop loving me, but I don't deserve you, and I was afraid if you ever saw how damn inferior I am, you'd realize that."
He was crying again. And I couldn't breathe again.
"You – you think you're not good enough for me," I say.
"You think you're not attractive enough for me," I say.
"Naruto…" I say.
"I don't care," I say.
His head shoots up, his eyes meet mine, and I'm so relieved.
"I don't care what you think you look like. I don't care what people tell you to look like. And I really don't care what the boys down at the studio look like. I'm nowhere near too good for you – I'm an arrogant bastard, and fuck, I know it. And you're one of the only people who can put up with that. Hell, you even change that, a little." I reach out to pull him towards me, and he nearly jumps into my embrace. "You're beautiful, babe."
He wraps his legs around my waist, and I do love him, I really do, what he's told me only makes me want him more.
"Wait," I say, through nuzzling my face deep into his hair. "Does that mean – you've wanted to be with me? You just thought I wouldn't like what your body looked like?"
"I said don't laugh," he says, frowning. "It was really important to me."
"No, I know that," I say, "I'm not laughing. I just wanted to know – all this time – you've wanted me as much as I've wanted you?"
He blushes again.
"Of course," he says shyly. "I – I mean, I know how strong you are. And I know – well – I know how b-big you are." I can feel my nostrils flaring in amusement, though I manage to keep my composure. "I mean, since our first night together, I've known I want to be with you. But before that, since the first time I saw you dance" – he takes a huge breath and says the next words so quietly, so intense – "I've known I want you to screw me."
"Then – Naruto-kun – will you let me undress you?" I didn't want to have to ask permission – in fact, I never do – but he's transforming me. He looks reluctant.
"I don't know," he says, pained.
"Don't you trust me?" I ask. "I love you. You believe that, right?" He nods. "Then no amount of cupcakes is going to change that."
He smiles at me, nervously, and places his hands on my shoulders.
"You'll go easy on me, right?" Blond locks are falling into his eyes, and he's positively glowing.
"If it hurts – at all – say it. And I'll stop." I brush a few strands away (though it's really just an excuse to tangle my hands in his hair). "You know me. I don't have any problems controlling my body."
He takes a final, deep breath, and then he does something that, admittedly, makes me harder than I've ever been.
"Then – Sasuke-sama – will you undress me?"
And he leans back slowly, with his legs still latched around my waist, and lies with his arms framing his face, flat on the bed.
Basically, he's pressing his ass into my crotch in the most seductive way possible.
"When did you learn to be so fucking sexy?" I growl, pouncing forward to devour his mouth. He just laughs and whispers something about natural talent.
We kiss fervently for a few minutes, and he rakes his hands through my hair, and I twist my limbs with his and relish the feeling of being on top. Soon it gets to be too much, and I can't stand his jeans, or my sweatpants.
I want him to be comfortable, and feel just a little bit in charge – though of course, tonight, I run this show – so I guide his hands to the hem of my shirt, and he obligingly pulls it off and flings it to the floor. Then I lean over and turn off the lamp, so the only light is that from the hallway, and the thin moonrays. I can still see him clearly, but I know he'd rather not be stripped under the harsh truth of clarity.
I kiss him again, gently now, and he's touching my chest and grabbing at my ass through my sweats, and it feels amazing as always, but I know tonight, I have to give back. So with one last brush against his lips, I slide my fingers under his t-shirt, and before he has a chance to say anything, I'm pulling it over his head. It gets stuck around his chin because I'm not paying attention, because I'm staring at his body.
I notice he's completely immobile under my unfaltering stare, so I drag my eyes to his face – and he's biting his lip so hard, he's so worried what I'll think.
He's so dark in contrast to the neon of his now-absent shirt. I shift forward and kiss the curves of his stomach. It bulges a bit around his waist, and the six-pack I'm used to seeing is buried under tanned, scarred fleshiness. But he's not overweight, not at all, he's just the size of an average guy. Fashion magazines and underwear models would tear him apart – so would my old ballet instructors, probably – but he's a comfortable size, and I hate the commercialism of our world for making him doubt that. His chest is soft and I smile, liking the firm feeling of his nipples under my tongue, liking the way his back arches into me.
"You had nothing to worry about," I say honestly. My hands are everywhere over his torso, loving how rich and soft and warm and dark his arms are, his chest is, his neck is. "You're perfect." He gives me a small, uncertain smile, and I laugh back, really laugh back, so my head falls a bit and my hair tickles him. He giggles and I feel him relax, and I take the opportunity to push my fingers into the back of his jeans. Just the back! I don't want to go too fast, even though I can barely stand it.
Now his eyes widen and he tenses. Once again, I don't know if I'm breathing. I watch his face, scrutinizing, to make sure I'm not making him uncomfortable. I move lower, lower, deeper, leaning into him, until our bodies are pressed so close together, and I can feel the flesh of his ass between my fingers. It's warm and soft like the rest of him, though a bit hotter, and a bit rougher. Tentatively, I knead my fingers, squeezing, cupping, trying to do what he does to me. He gasps, blushing so hard, and wraps his arms around my neck almost chokingly.
"Does it feel okay?" God, what an awkward question. I just have to ask it though, I have no damned idea what I'm doing. I move my fingers deeper, into the cleft of his ass, my heart pounding so loudly I know he can hear it. I don't push hard, or try to – find anything – (oh God, what am I getting myself into), I just stroke the insides of the cheeks, where it's starting to get wet, and it's even rougher.
"Mm – mmhmm," he mumbles, fighting for breath, in my ear. He shifts himself against me, and licks my collarbone. "Sasuke?"
"Could – could you take them off now?"
I don't have to ask what he means, and I don't want to ask if he's sure. I gently detach his arms from around me, and I pop open the button of his jeans. I see his knuckles turn violently white on the bedsheets, and I lean in to kiss him again, lightly.
Okay, he's going to have to stop being so tense, or this is going to hurt like fuck for him, won't it? (Which I guess it is, ugh…)
I scoot out from under him, setting him on the bed for a moment, and I pull off my own sweatpants. He sees what I'm doing, and he pouts a bit, in his I wanna do it way, and he yanks off my briefs. He lets me pull off his jeans, all the way, before turning red again and tucking his knees up to his chin.
"Naruto-kun," I say. I'd be exasperated if it wasn't so cute. "What are you doing?" He mutters something about not having taken a shower, or shaved his legs or anything. I roll my eyes. What a girl… "I don't care. Honestly, I don't." I smile and tilt in and kiss the tip of his round nose, and he blinks. "Come on, babe, we've come this far, right?" I put a hand on each of his knees, and part them, revealing his tartan boxers (hah) just barely masking a very, very needy arousal. I smirk, but he whimpers and grabs at my hands, so I sigh and I look at his eyes again. "Do you want me to stop? Because I will. Just say yes, and I'll stop. We don't have to go all the way, and we don't have to do anything now. Just say yes, Naruto, and we'll go to sleep, okay? Now, tell me. Do you want me to stop?"
And in a very small voice, like I knew he would, he says –
I grin, trying not to smirk again.
"Good." I grab the elastic of his boxers, but I can't remove them unless he moves. "Move your hips up."
"What?" he says confusedly, moving them backwards on the bed.
"No, no, up, move them up."
"What?" Now he moves them closer to me. I roll my eyes and tuck one hand under his ass, lifting it so I can get the boxers around his thighs. "Oh!"
I toss them on the floor, but in the second of distraction that takes me, Naruto's covering himself with his hands, blushing deeper than blood.
I want this to happen.
But I want him to want it.
And I know he does, I just don't want him to be so nervous, because he doesn't have to be.
…How hypocritical. I'm jumping out of my skin.
"Naruto-kun," I say again. I don't push his hands away from his crotch, but I put my own hands on top of them. "Look at me." He does, biting his lip. "You want this, right? You want me" – I kiss his chest, just below the collar – "inside you?"
"You know I won't hurt you?" I say, talking him through it, talking myself into it at the same time.
"Then let me try to make you feel what you make me feel."
And so he swallows, hard, and in one motion he puts his hands back on my shoulders and shuts his eyes, and I can see every inch of him.
And there are quite a few inches.
I've never seen another guy's – well, you know – before, not really, and I've never seen one so…excited. Nervously – though I don't show it – I wrap my fingers around his wet shaft. He moans, and it twitches in my hand. I try to remember what he does to me – up and down and hold it tighter and use your thumb, something like that, argh – but it doesn't really work, so I just sort of jerk it. I don't want to do it too hard, so I don't think I'm making much of an impression, but then I feel Naruto's nails digging into my back and his breath going faster and faster.
"Does it feel good?" I ask, almost anxiously.
"Yes, yes, yes, it does! It does!"
"Good," I say, with more than a touch of pride. I get a bit bolder, pumping harder, moving my right hand up to touch at his – oh, I hate the term – balls, while my left hand strokes behind him again. His breathing is rough now, and my own erection is painfully in need of release; I'm so used to him pleasuring me.
As if he can read my mind, he lowers a trembling hand and starts doing the same to me, only he knows what he's doing (kind of). He takes me full in his palm and starts fisting me firmly, panting all the while. I try to do the same, and he grips hard at me when I squeeze a particular spot.
I don't know how much time passes that we clutch at each other, but soon it gets to be almost unbearable, and I know I can't wait much longer, and neither can he, but I want to do this.
"I – I don't have anything to –"
"Here," he says breathlessly, and grabs my hand and jams three of my fingers into his mouth, sucking on them hard.
"Will it be enough?" I ask, embarrassed. He nods, though I can tell he's not really thinking about it, but hell, we're so wet already anyway.
I reach around him again and push in one finger. His hands are back on my shoulders now, and he lets out a stuttering gasp when I push in the second. It's so tight I have no idea how I'm going to fit without ripping him apart. Instinctively, I try to stretch him, separating my fingers and prodding in farther, but his muscles tighten and I know I'm hurting him.
"I'm sorry!" I say, gritting my teeth, trying to be more gentle, but it's so hard to focus with his cock pressing into my stomach and his lips distracting himself from the pain by biting onto my shoulder.
"It doesn't hurt," he gasps out desperately. "It – it doesn't hurt. Please – Sasuke, stop using your fingers. Please, please, I want you inside me, I don't know how long I can last!"
"Are you sure?" I don't know if it's him or me who makes us shift on the bed then, but we do, and my fingers go even deeper into him, and he lets out a little yell. He climbs fully onto my lap now, and hangs off my neck, and my fingers slide out of him, and his wet entrance is pressed right against my shaft, and I stop thinking logically.
He lifts himself over me, and looks straight into my eyes, and without fully comprehending what I'm doing, I plunge directly into him, and we fall over with him on his back.
He's so tight I have to close my eyes and say his name. I have no idea how to actually go about screwing someone, but I pull out until only the head is inside of him – he's breathing very fast – and then I thrust in again, and fuck it feels like heaven, but he's screaming, and I'd better listen.
His legs are around my shoulders now too, and I have to utilize my flexibility to manage to kiss his open mouth and his tearing eyes.
"Do you want me to stop?" I can barely get the words out.
He shakes his head.
"N – no! No! It's just – I – you're just so big!" But he's smiling as he says the words, and I smile back, and thrust again, and I'm stroking his cock again, against my stomach, and he's moaning under me. Still, I can see his tears, and it hurts me, so I can only imagine what it's doing to him.
"I know it hurts," I say, but his limbs are still tight around me, so I keep thrusting, loving the feeling of his walls closing around my own member every time I hit that place inside him.
"It's worth it," he murmurs, and he starts rising to meet my thrusts, and soon, oh God, so soon, I can feel ecstasy building inside of me, and he's screaming my name and I can't hear anything anymore, and he contracts, so tightly, and I grab his cock and my mouth is all over him, and I can feel myself releasing inside him, and he screams even louder as it does, but he's laughing. His chest spasms as I still thrust into him, riding out our orgasms together for the first time.
Soon, too soon, but I know this isn't the last time, we collapse together, and he groans as I pull out of him.
We're soppy and messy and tired and sticky, and I roll over, and he cuddles into my chest immediately, the fool.
"How – how was it?" I ask, not making eye contact. My breath still hasn't slowed yet.
"Wow," he says softly. "I'm…I'm so lucky to be with you."
I roll my eyes. The enthusiastic idiot…
I want to talk more, but I'm so exhausted – it's been a damned long day -- and besides, his eyelids are fluttering shut.
"Good night, Naruto-kun." I pull him close to me, and he kisses the side of my chest. He's so warm, and spunky, and unpredictable, and oddly cute (God, I hate that word) and his whole color scheme…I don't know, he's just so like some sort of animal, I can't really place it…
"I love you," he says. "You damn seducer you." He grins, baring a tired claw of fingernails. "Rawr!"
And it hits me.
"I love you too, my beautiful fox."
Sorry for anyone who wanted the whole "scarred past" or "horrible defects" plot twist…I feel they're overused and I wanted to keep this story lighter and more real than that, so I always just planned on it this way xD Hope it's not too lame for you! Because honestly, body image is a really relevant issue…and it doesn't just pertain to girls. I've seen skinny people who are absolutely sexy, and I've seen skinny people who scare me. I've seen overweight people who are beautiful, and I've seen chubby people who are just unappealing. I believe so much of beauty comes from how you carry yourself. Everyone can be attractive, if only they aren't corrupted by society.
Kay, my beautiful readers, done ranting now xD I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I hope the sex scene was okay, and this is NOT the end of this story. Let me know what you think, and I'll see you in the next chapter!